


Loss

by mitslits



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's even more useful dead than he was alive. He keeps an eye on Eggsy, until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss

**Author's Note:**

> The fandom was really angsty today, so I decided to join in.

 

When Merlin discovers Harry is still alive (albeit adorned with a positively wicked new scar on his temple) Harry makes it clear that the knowledge isn’t to become public. He’s more useful this way, he claims. The world at large believes him dead; that includes their enemies. He fades gratefully into the background, able to work much more efficiently now that nobody knows he’s coming. 

He can’t, however, shake off lingering thoughts of Eggsy. Although they aren’t exactly lingering. Eggsy is practically all he thinks about when he’s not focused on ruthlessly taking down his next target, how the boy is doing, what his missions are like, if he’s coping with everything as well as he’d expected him to. 

It only takes a month before he breaks down and practically begs Merlin to let him see the footage from his last few missions. He watches all of it carefully, heart tightening slightly in his chest at the sight of Eggsy as a full-blown agent, just as good as any of them. There’s a warm glow of pride in his chest. It’s then that he realizes another use of his new status as ‘deceased.’ Nobody expects him to be there. Nobody. 

-

Eggsy should have been dead many times over, he’s sure of it. There’s something somebody isn’t telling him, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what it is. All he knows is that there are occasionally bullets that appear from nowhere, picking off enemies he barely had time to see, there are sometimes shrieks of terror from the corridors in front of him that always seem to be empty when he skids into them. 

He’s asked Merlin about it, reviewed every second of his mission feed three times over at least, but he’s caught nothing more than the blurry glimpse of a shadow here, a blur of motion there. He doesn’t allow himself to hope. 

-

The mission is supposed to be an easy one. Simple recon and the spiriting away of a low-level, minimum security flash drive. Of course it would be the one that went wrong. 

Harry doesn’t quite have the stamina he used to, but he tears through the hallways of the maze-like warehouse frantically, Merlin’s voice guiding him to Eggsy. He should have been watching from the beginning, should have paid attention to every second, but it’s too late now. 

A gunshot rings in his ears and his step falters briefly. One. Just one. Heart pounding in his ears he resumes his previous pace, emerging into a large room. There’s a crumpled form on the floor (”Eggsy”) and a man standing over him, sneer twisting his face. He’s got a pistol pressed to Eggsy’s forehead, but there’s a hole between his eyes before he gets the chance to fire it. 

Hands shaking so terribly that he almost drops the gun, Harry makes his way to Eggsy’s prone form, breath hitching in his chest. 

Eggsy blinks blearily up at him, hands pressed to his gut, stained red. “Harry?” he slurs, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I was dead yet.” 

Harry drops to his knees, the gun clattering to the floor as he cradles Eggsy’s head in his hands, settling it on his lap. “You’re not dead, Eggsy. You’re going to be alright, Merlin’s called in the medics, they’ll be here soon. Just hang on a moment longer, my dear boy,” he says through trembling lips. 

Brow furrowing in confusion, Eggsy struggles to focus his gaze, dimmed and blurred at the edges at is. “You’re… alive?” he asks, hardly daring to believe it. 

“Yes. Yes, Eggsy, I’m alive and so are you. Hold on, help will be here, I promise.” 

Eggsy’s head lolls back and forth to one side in a weak parody of disagreement. “‘S okay, bruv. Savin’ the world once is good enough, yeah?” He chuckles breathlessly, one blood-stained hand reaching up to rest against the side of Harry’s face. “Hey. I did good, didn’t I? Didn’t disappoint you again?” he asks, suddenly serious. 

Harry feels like he’s going to shatter into a million pieces, but he forces himself to shake his head. “No, Eggsy, you did wonderfully. Better than I expected.” 

“Good.” The word is barely audible, half-breathed through crimson lips. His hand falls away from Harry’s face, lands limply on the ground. “Good.” 

The medics burst in moments later to find a dead man holding a dead man, foreheads pressed together, shoulders shaking with his silent grief.


End file.
